


Birthday Boys

by MaxWrite



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-01
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 21:46:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxWrite/pseuds/MaxWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's and Neville's 30th birthdays are fast approaching. One is taking it a lot better than the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Boys

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Daily Deviant](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/daily_deviant).

Harry lay in bed, naked beneath the sheets, and stared at the ceiling. Not that he could see it very well. It was night time, so only soft lamplight was illuminating the space, and his glasses lay on the nightstand next to his and Neville's wands. Neville had gotten up out of bed ten minutes ago after his Remembrall had begun to glow. Harry could hear him puttering around the house. It was Neville's house, so that wasn't strange, but Harry had been under the impression that they hadn't been quite, well, finished yet.

"What are you doing?" he called.

"Nothing!" Neville yelled back. A second later, Harry heard something clatter to the floor, something metal, possibly a piece of cutlery. Neville was in the kitchen.

"Are you making a snack?" Harry asked.

"…Maybe."

Harry grinned, wanting to say that Neville should eat up because he'd need his strength for the rest of their evening together, but he decided not to.

"Want some help?" Harry asked.

"No, no, you stay where you are! Be right in!"

Harry frowned at that. Neville sounded slightly panicked, but Harry decided to dismiss it and he closed his eyes. The truth was he didn't really want to get up, anyway. At all. If it were up to him he would've stayed there in that bed for the next week, without a word to the outside world. An awful, dreadful day was approaching. It was just barely a week away and there was nothing he could do to stop it coming.

It wasn't turning thirty that bothered Harry. He couldn't have cared less about getting older, but the passage of time, and of course constant vigilance, had brought peace to the wizarding world. The Ministry had cleaned up the remnants of Voldemort's army, and as a result Harry was feeling more and more purposeless. It wasn't that he wasn't happy that the streets were safe, of course. It was just that he'd spent more than half his life fighting this fight, the last ten as a real Auror. What was he to do now? Break up pub brawls? Rescue Kneazles from trees?

Grey hairs and wrinkles be damned. The approach of another birthday signified another year further removed from his purpose in life.

He was sighing heavily just as Neville returned to the bedroom in slippers and his bathrobe.

"Are you thinking about it again?" Neville groaned.

"You're not? They're sure to start laying us off soon."

"We'll be fine. Plenty of crime left to fight."

"Well, that's true. Still lots of mischievous Weasleys being born, after all."

Neville gave him a reproachful look as he unbelted his robe and came to lie next to Harry. He left his slippers on the floor and lay on his side, watching Harry thoughtfully.

"What?" Harry asked him.

"Are you ready for it?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Harry sighed.

"You'll put on a happy face for them?"

"Don't worry, Neville, I'll be the very picture of pleased. I promise."

Neville was asking about their birthday party. Harry had insisted on no party this year, but he knew he'd been naive to think anyone would listen. The fact was, his and Neville's birthday's had been combined years ago into one big celebration each year, even before they'd gotten together, and if he was planning on attending Neville's party, which he was, then there was no getting away from his own. Their friends would make sure the party was for both of them whether Harry wanted it or not. So, this year it was a "surprise" party for Harry, because Harry wasn't supposed to know about it.

"I wish Hermione was better at keeping secrets," Neville mumbled.

"Oh, she's hopeless. It's sort of endearing, actually. And useful. I'm glad I know, Neville. I hate being caught off guard. Makes me anxious the whole rest of the day."

"I suppose. But don't you like surprises?"

"Yeah. Depending."

"Depending on what?"

"On whether or not I specifically told everyone not to bother or not. I don't want anything for my birthday. It's pointless. Meaningless. It's just a day. I wish it could just pass by without all the fuss. Surprise parties are for the people throwing them, not the people they're thrown for."

"What do you mean?"

"The anticipation, the set-up, seeing the look on the person's face. That's what they get out of it. I get it, it's fun. The person being surprised, however, gets to feel awkward and under-dressed and generally thrown off kilter. Don't get me wrong. I'm grateful. I love them, all of them. But… I'm tired. You know?"

"How would you want to celebrate, then?"

"Not at all," Harry replied.

"Nothing? Not even a small get-together?"

"Nope. Nothing. I'd be just as happy at home by myself."

"That's sad."

"Maybe. But it's honest. I'll have to paste on a smile for the big bash, pretend I'm okay. It's exhausting just thinking about it."

When Neville didn't reply, Harry looked at him again, found genuine sympathy in his eyes. Harry wanted to kick himself. The last thing he'd wanted to do was worry Neville. He gave Neville what he hoped was a reassuring smile and rolled toward him, reached out and slipped a hand inside his robe to touch his waist.

"I _am_ okay," Harry assured him. "I dunno why I said that before. Just been a bit down lately. Feel like my usefulness has run its course. It's all right," he quickly added, seeing Neville's sympathy intensify. "I'll be fine, I'm just… going through something."

"Might help if you talked about it."

"I've talked. And talked and talked. I'm all talked out. Nothing anyone can do. Just something I need to fix on my own."

Neville actually pouted a little.

"Ah, don't look at me like that," Harry groaned. "I swear to you, if there was something you could do, I would tell you."

Neville got an uncharacteristically sceptical look on his face, almost like a smirk, and he said, "No, you wouldn't. You take everything on by yourself." He didn't sound upset. 'Sage' was more like it. It was these moments that always took Harry aback, these moments of clarity that sparked in Neville, cutting through the sweet exterior.

"You know, I think I owe you an apology," Harry said.

"What for?"

"For underestimating you. I've know you nearly twenty years and I still can't get it through my thick head that you see more than most give you credit for. You're brilliant."

Neville blushed. "What are you talking about?" he asked, smiling sweetly.

Harry shook his head. "It's nothing. Just… thanks. For everything."

"I haven't done anything."

"Not true. Been shagging me eight ways from Sunday for a while now. I'd say that deserves a 'thank you'."

Neville grinned, his soft, brown eyes shining with affection. Then he got that look in his eyes, a dark, sort of shy look that Harry recognised. Neville rolled onto his back, raising a knee and letting his robe fall open. He was half-hard and hardening fast.

"I think… I'd like you t-to touch me. Please. If you want to," he said quietly. Even now, even after they'd been together for months, Neville was still shy about initiating and terribly awkward about it. He was getting better, and frankly Harry thought the awkwardness was rather cute.

"Of course, I want to," Harry murmured. He moved closer, propped himself up on his elbow while his other hand crept past Neville's belly and down between his legs. Neville's eyes closed for a moment, slowly drifted shut as his mouth fell just slightly open. He let out a soft moan, the kind of clearly sexual sound that Harry was still growing accustomed to hearing come out of that innocent face. It wasn't that Neville didn't look like the man that he was, but there was still that round-cheeked boyishness lurking in his face. It was that much sexier pleasuring him and watching him enjoy it because he'd been shy and sweet for most of the time Harry had known him. Harry loved watching him come undone.

"Can I use it on you?" Harry whispered.

Neville opened his eyes. "I was supposed to use it on you, remember?"

"Yeah, but I've changed my mind." Harry brought his mouth to Neville's ear and whispered, "Can I? Can I put it in you?"

Neville nodded, watching Harry with dark eyes. Harry sat up immediately, turned away to grab both his glasses and the still lube-slicked Remembrall from the nightstand. He shoved his glasses onto his face and turned back to find Neville playing with himself.

"Fuck, you look amazing like that," Harry remarked, getting up on his knees, making the sheet fall away from his naked body. He knelt between Neville's legs and petted one of his thighs. For a moment, he simply watched Neville touching himself, and Neville watched Harry blatantly appreciating the sight of him. Harry let his hand wander from one side of the inverted V of Neville's spread legs to the other, then back again, grazing over his balls on each pass. The gentle touch of his fingertips made Neville squirm and arch, vacillating between enjoying the sensation and trying to get away from it. Finally, he reached down and took hold of Harry's wrist.

"Harry, I can't," he said, on the verge of laughter. "Tickles."

With a groan of arousal, Harry lunged forth to bring their lips together, sweeping his tongue down into Neville's mouth where he tasted something sweet on Neville's tongue that hadn't been there before Neville had left the room.

Harry pulled his lips away and asked, "What've you been eating?"

Neville looked innocently up at him. "What? Nothing."

"Is that… cake icing?"

"No. Maybe. I dunno. Just… Harry…" Neville murmured Harry's name, making it sound almost like pleading. His hands came up to pull at Harry's waist and try to get him closer.

Neville's adventures in the kitchen were quickly forgotten. Harry couldn't concentrate with Neville practically begging for him like that. He happily gave Neville his mouth again, savoured the lingering sweetness on his tongue, whatever it was, as he hovered over Neville on his hands and knees and then pressed down against him. He was already forgetting the Remembrall he still clutched in his fingers and wishing he'd thought to lube them both up before he laid on top of Neville. Any notion of getting up off of Neville began to seem ridiculous as he pushed against Neville, grinding against him, feeling the answering grind of the hard length of Neville's cock. He felt he was almost wallowing in the heat of Neville's body.

"Harry?" Neville breathed as Harry's kisses moved down to his neck.

"Hm?"

"Have you forgotten something?"

"What?"

"The Remembrall."

Harry raised his head and looked at his left hand, which was curled over top of the little ball. He could see the scarlet glow already subsiding, fading back to white as he remembered what he'd wanted to do with it.

"Forgot I was holding that," Harry said.

Neville laid a hand next to his. "Here, give it to me. I don't think we should… you know."

"Ah, come on," Harry said, sliding half off Neville and dropping the Remembrall into his hand. "Why not?"

"Because, Harry… Gran gave this to me."

"Well, that's the end of that, then," Harry said, rolling onto his back and settling at Neville's side.

"The end of what?"

"Neville, you cannot mention your gran in bed and expect things to just… just keep _going_." Harry raised his head a bit and looked down at himself. He was already wilting. "Nope. Not happening again for a while yet. You've killed him."

With a chuckle, Neville sat up and had a closer look at Harry's cock. "He'll be fine," he said fondly. He leaned down and gave it a lick. Harry grinned when Neville glanced over his shoulder to check on him.

"Not happening," Harry insisted.

Neville gave Harry another lick, a longer one, all the way from base to tip, then he checked on Harry again.

" _No_ , Neville," Harry laughed. "Grandparents are a deal breaker."

Undeterred, Neville extended his tongue once more and began tickling just under the head with its tip. He kept on for several seconds, making Harry squirm. Harry closed his eyes tight and tried to will his body not to react.

"Dammit," Harry muttered as his cock began to harden against Neville's tongue. Neville switched to gentle sucking against the sensitive little area he'd been flicking his tongue across.

With a sigh, Harry opened his eyes to watch as Neville's sucking finally enveloped the entire head. His tongue swiped across the slit, making Harry groan and instinctively reach down to pet Neville's hair.

In Neville's hand, the Remembrall was glowing red again.

"Forget something?" Harry murmured.

"Hmph?"

To Harry's dismay, Neville stopped sucking and looked at the Remembrall with a frown. Nothing seemed to click at first, but a second later Neville's eyes widened and he gasped and then smiled.

"I almost forgot!" he exclaimed. Then he was up and off like a shot, off the bed and dashing out the bedroom door. The Remembrall was left on the bed next to Harry, the red glow fading away.

"You _did_ forget!" Harry called after him, picking up the ball and sitting up. "That's the point of this thing, remember?"

Neville didn't respond. When he returned, he was moving more slowly, mindful of something he was now carrying in his hands. He'd belted his robe closed again and was guarding whatever he was holding in his left hand, curling his right hand protectively in front of it. Harry could already see that whatever it was, was flickering like a small candle.

"What've you done?" Harry asked.

Neville smiled sheepishly at him and dropped his right hand. As Harry had already suspected, it was a small cupcake with a single candle stuck in it. Neville came and sat before him in the centre of the bed. The cupcake was white cake with messy, uneven sky-blue icing and a heart shakily drawn in white icing, dead centre of the sea of blue. The small, thin candle stood proudly in the middle of the heart.

"Made it earlier, before you got here," Neville explained. "When I picked up the Remembrall to… erm…"

"Shove it up inside me," Harry said helpfully.

"Right. It started to glow and I remembered that I'd forgotten the icing. That's why I ran off before."

Harry shook his head, smiling. "I told you I didn't want a fuss made. And now I feel like a right git, I haven't done anything for you yet. Why'd you do this a week early, anyway?"

Neville shrugged. "We're both busy with our own lives, with work. Next weekend's the party. I wanted to make sure we got to celebrate by ourselves."

Harry was touched. He felt a bit guilty about his earlier attitude, about his lack of anything special to give to Neville in this moment, but he knew that Neville didn't care about any of that. That wasn't Neville's way. Harry loved him for that.

Harry shimmied closer, leaned in. Neville took the hint and leaned in too so they could kiss. Their lips gently pressed for a long moment, until they broke apart again and Neville held the cupcake up between them, nestled in both his hands. Harry cupped his own hands underneath Neville's.

"Happy almost-birthday, Harry."

"Harry almost-birthday, Neville."

"Can I blow it out with you?"

"Sure. I like blowing things with you."

Neville rolled his eyes at that and smiled. Then he counted backwards from three and they blew the candle out together.

"You know what?" Harry said as a thin trail of grey smoke rose from the burnt-out candle wick and curled into the air. "I'd like to change my answer from before."

"What answer?"

"If I had a say in how I got to celebrate my thirtieth birthday, I'd spend it right here with you."

END


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